


Enochian Comfort

by booyahfordham



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booyahfordham/pseuds/booyahfordham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*TW: Self-Harm, Panic Attack*</p><p>In which Dean self-harms.</p><p> </p><p>Whether Dean and Cas are platonic or romantic or sexual or whatever is totally open to interpretation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enochian Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't read if you're triggered by self-harm or panic attacks.
> 
> Comments/reviews are always appreciated. I'd really love to know what you think. Critique of my writing is what makes me a better writer.
> 
> Otherwise, short and definitely not sweet.

When he chose his room, he had moved the mirror out of the bathroom. Looking into it brought shame and guilt and self-loathing, and it was better to just avoid looking at himself all together.

He reached into the drawer and grabbed his enemy, reflecting the dim light of the bathroom on its shiny silver surface. He sat on the toilet lid and held his arm out in front of him. He pushed up the short sleeve and brought the blade to his skin. He sliced and watched as the blood pooled in bubbles before filling the gap left by the razor. The blood trickled down his arm and onto the floor. A bit deep, but nothing that a bandage wouldn’t fix. He did it again; one for Dad, one for Bobby, for Kevin, for Ellen, for-

The noise made him stop. There shouldn’t be any noise. He never cried while he did this. Never any music. Sammy was in Maryland on a case, and Cas was… Oh. He kept his eyes trained on the pool of blood that was collecting on the tiled floor.

“Dean,” Cas croaked out in a weak voice.

He could feel himself breaking, tearing, shouting on the inside. His vision blurred with tears. He tried to dissociate, to lose touch, to do anything to not be here, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t escape, and before he knew it, his enemy had become a silver island in a sea of red on the floor, and his eyes were overflowing with tears. He was sitting on the floor now, across from the toilet, but he wasn’t sure how he had gotten there from the lid. He was shaking and scared and cold, and he had never felt more alone. His body ached with each quiet sob.

He felt Cas sitting on the floor beside him. Strong arms wrapped around his tired body, pulling him into the warm chest of the angel. Gentle fingers ran through his hair. Sweet words were whispered in his ear. He couldn’t understand the language he was hearing, but it was comforting. Cas’s gruff voice pulled him in, and he felt the stinging disappear from his arm as Cas’s hand drifted over the wounds.

He felt himself being lifted, carried to bed. Cas climbed onto the soft mattress with him, and he curled up against his best friend. He tried his best to make his own chest match the rise and fall of Cas’s. He could feel himself drifting further and further into sleep, and he tried to stop himself from being swept away for fear that Cas might not be there when he awoke.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely do not want to romanticize self-harm. I wrote this purely because sometimes the best way for me to work out my own problems is for me to write or read about other people going through the same thing. I published this because I feel that if reading about it helps me, it may help others. Please don't hurt yourself.


End file.
